Poem: The Stain of Existence

Place the void before me and I will cower

Fill it and I will pulse with awe

Neither pushes me down the path

The winding way, that greenish-yellow place

I once described in my innocence.

I'm mistaken, languishing

Anticipating some outside force,

Propellant, dependent on

Otherness to accomplish bliss

Folly filling my chance.

I wondered, then, if I would live

Laughing at the speed of one

Planetary body, cynical as Iago.

When I found time could hold me

Luck equals opportunity plus more: effort

Place before me a sheet of paper

I will cover it with echoes

Neither real nor imaginary

Ghosts that haunt my happy place

A stain excreted, evincing existence.

BOOK JONES REVIEW